


Jostling for Position

by womenseemwicked



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Bottom Billy Hargrove, Bottom Steve Harrington, Casual Sex, Coming In Pants, Competition, Crack Treated Seriously, Dirty Talk, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, Homophobic Language, Humor, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, because Billy Hargrove has a weird idea of sexy talk, brief mention of - Freeform, did I stutter?, which reminds me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-03-13 05:40:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18934600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/womenseemwicked/pseuds/womenseemwicked
Summary: in which Billy and Steve are stubborn assholes who were both convincedtheywere going to bottom the first time they fucked, dammit.





	Jostling for Position

“ _Meet me at the Quarry, at 2 AM._ ”

When Harrington whispers those words in Billy’s ear after practice one day in early June, they aren’t really friends. They’re barely not enemies. But there’s been enough unspoken something building between them that when Billy turns to frown at him skeptically, his skin tingles all over at the look that Steve’s giving him.

_Hungry. Desperate._

“You played good today,” he says at a more normal volume, but his eyes are still lingering where they shouldn’t and Billy’s heart pounds in his chest.

“You too,” Billy croaks back, and slams his locker door closed loudly.

“ _See you there_ ,” he whispers as he leaves, and his lips tingle with electricity where they almost-touch Harrington’s shower-damp skin.

All that afternoon he wonders why he did it. What made him _so sure_ he knew exactly what Steve wanted from him after all this time. Billy thinks about calling it off as he showers and shaves and teases his hair to perfection before heading to “bed.”

They’ve been dancing around each other for _months,_ now, as far as he can tell, but Billy hadn’t imagined Steve would actually _act_ on it. All this time shooting each other looks and cutting remarks that didn’t _quite_ feel like insults anymore, Billy had assumed they’d just leave it at this. Continue the dance, the back and forth, until school let out for the summer and Harrington graduated. Went away. Left him to his misery.

But by 1:15, Billy’s lube is in his jacket pocket and he’s sneaking out the back. He leaves his keys inside the house, hidden, because he knows his car starting now would only get him caught (and if he’s caught either way, the keys are the first thing Neil will go for after Billy’s face). He doesn’t even light a cigarette until he turns the first corner.

Half an hour later he finally takes a seat on the lone picnic bench on the shitty little rocky beach of the quarry, smoking his third cigarette like maybe _this one_ will calm the fucking jitters. He lies back and stares up at the stars, feeling vaguely idiotic. Waiting for _Harrington_. The quarry is huge, and they didn’t agree to a spot, so he’d come to the most-commonly-used-for-hookups part, but now he’s wondering if that was a mistake.

Maybe, after all this, that’s not what Harrington wants from him.

Or maybe he does, but the second Steve gets here will be the same second the cops show up and out them both to the whole fucking town.

He’s about three seconds from hopping back off the wood table and walking the sad walk back home when Harrington’s Beemer pulls up beside him and the former king of Hawkins High steps out, looking fucking to die for as usual. His swagger is a little less than it was today in practice, but it’s still intoxicating.

“Stay there,” he says, quiet, as he comes around to Billy, stopping him in his tracks with a hand on his chest and keeping him from sitting up to greet him. “You look like a calendar model or something, laid out like that,” he says like it’s high praise.

And that should feel more like an insult to Billy than it does, but instead he wants to strip for Harrington and give him a _real_ calendar model pose to remember.

“Been here long?” he asks.

Billy shrugs noncommittally. Like he isn’t aware of every _minute_ he’s been sitting here waiting. “What am I here for, pretty boy?” he asks, letting out a breath of smoke and squinting. He’s not letting Harrington know he’s that easy that fast. “Cause I’ve got places to be. So if this is just gonna be—”

“I wanna fuck you,” Steve cuts in, and he’s standing too close. Billy feels trapped. Exposed. Electric. “And I know you wanna fuck me too,” he demands. “So let’s cut the crap, Hargrove. Life is too short for this shit. All right? I brought KY.”

Billy swallows hard at that. Stares maybe a little too long. His cigarette burns his fingers a little, but he doesn’t notice. “I did too,” he admits, throat feeling dry, legs itching to spread already. He flicks the nearly burnt-out cigarette away and sits up just to feel Steve’s hand on his chest pushing him back down.

The kiss is... well, it’s amazing. They’ve both wanted this for so long. It’s wet, and needy, and full of tongue, but Billy is surprised by how gentle it is, despite the fact that they’re both _hungry_ for this. He pulls Steve harder, down onto him, and Steve follows the tug but he doesn’t press down any more. Just moans and moves his soft lips over to Billy’s cheek and then to his neck.

Billy’s never in his life been one to complain at neck kisses, so he turns his head to the side and sighs as Steve brushes curls out of the way. Climbs up to straddle his hips on the cool wood of the table.

“Fuck, yeah, just like that,” Billy sighs. “Show me what you got, King Steve.”

He spreads his legs a little, as much as he can with Steve’s on either side of him, and arches up so their cocks press together through layers of denim.

Steve just whines and grinds down to meet him.

“Yeah,” he pants as they move. “Jesus, I want every inch.”

Billy frowns a little at that, but doesn’t care enough about the turn of phrase to make him stop.

“Take it,” he growls. “Use every inch of me.”

Steve breathes soft and needy against his ear, and then in a moment there are hands on the front of his jeans, undoing the clasp and tugging them down over his ass, _almost_ enough.

“I want it so bad,” Steve confesses. “Been staring at it in the showers for weeks, wondering what if would feel like.”

Billy feels his cock fill out, thickening against his briefs, and groans.

“Fuck, the showers? Harrington, I’ve been watching you at _practice_  - bouncing around like you don’t even know what a fucking jock is. Don’t know how coach hasn’t caught on yet and beat the shit out of me for the faggot I am.”

Steve growls at that thought and presses his lips back against Billy’s for a fleeting moment before they both pull away slightly.

“God, I want your cock,” Steve murmurs.

“Want your cock in me so bad,” Billy breathes at the same time.

And then they both freeze.

“What?”

“What?!”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Steve hisses.

And Billy busts out laughing. Because of course. He’s spent the last weeks assuming Harrington was just toying with him, that he couldn’t really want him the way Billy wanted _him_ , because fate was never so kind. And now, when they’re lying tangled in each other’s limbs, lips wet and swollen with kissing, it turns out that, what? They’re both _too_ gay to do this?

“You telling me I want you to fuck me… but you want me to fuck _you_?” Steve is slowly trying to understand, his soft features curled up into a frown.

“Looks like it,” Billy huffs.

“But-- But you’re so…” Steve starts, and Billy feels a growl in his throat. _I dare you to finish that sentence, pretty boy_ , he thinks. “Tough, and strong,” he says, and Billy sighs. He’ll allow that, even if it is almost entirely irrelevant. “I thought--”

“Well, you thought wrong, sweetheart,” Billy says. “Dead wrong. If I just wanted a hole to fill, I’d have been fucking Tommy H. since I got here. Ever think of that? Only liked you ‘cause of that _fire_ you’ve got in you. Well, and your pretty cock. You look like you could tear me apart if you wanted.”

Steve shifts on top of him, and both are reminded of erections which refuse to go down even amongst this confusion.

“So, what do we do?” Steve wonders. He sounds small, unsure, like this. Billy doesn’t like it. He rolls his eyes.

“Go home, jerk off, and ignore each other in the showers tomorrow?” he suggests.

But Steve groans at that thought and leans back down to cage him in again.

“No,” he breathes. “I’m tired of waiting. I need this, Hargrove. And you do too.”

Billy’s pulse quickens again. He can’t help it. Those words have his whole body back in business. If he was a girl, he’d have a fucking lake in his panties right now.

“Dammit, King Steve,” he sighs, shifting. “Just fuck me, and I’ll finger you after or something. Come on.”

And he can tell Steve almost gives into that offer, but then something makes him change his mind.

“No,” he says, sitting up a little with a set to his lips that makes Billy hot and cold all at once. “That’s not fair. You were just in _California_. Bet you had _tons_ of boyfriends there. D’you know how long it’s been since I had somebody fuck me? I go first. If there’s time, I’ll fuck you afterwards.”

Billy sees the logic, respects it even, but he’s _not_ giving in that easily.

“That’s bullshit,” he hisses. “You get it first just cause you lived in the barren fucking mid-west first? Fuck that. How ‘bout this, pretty boy: I go first, cause my ass is ready for it. When was the last time you had something up there, huh? Bet you’re so tight it’d take an hour at least before I could get my dick inside you. But me, I fingered myself just the other night.”

Steve’s breath hitches. The thought of all those things is clearly getting to him. Billy licks his lips, and gives his ass muscles a twitch, so ready for this to go his way at last. But Steve shakes his head, a thoughtful little smile coming across his face that stops Billy’s heart for a long second.

“I saw you at lunch,” he says quietly. “You may have fingered yourself a couple nights ago, but you ate too much of that slop they served at lunch to be good to go for this right now.”

Billy feels a cool rush go through his veins. _Fuck_.

“Me, though,” Steve continues. “I’ve been eating right for days, since I decided I was going to ride your dick until we both were seeing stars. I’m _clean_. _Ready_. And yeah, I know how to finger myself too.”

“I’m not gonna let you win this just ‘cause you planned ahead, Harrington. What kind of bullshit is that?” Billy growls, shifting beneath him uncomfortably. “I’ve been picturing you pushing me up the shower wall and fucking me hard since October. The hell if I’m giving all that up now.”

“The showers?” Steve nearly squeaks. “Billy, we’re _not_ doing this in the _showers_. I might not have a perfect plan, but that’s just stupid.”

Billy feels anger rise in his chest and grips Steve hard, flipping them over on the table.

“You want a real plan, pretty boy?” he asks. “How ‘bout we wait till I’ve got time to get real nice and clean, and then I come over. I take my clothes off, nice and slow, put on a show for you, maybe a lap dance if you’re lucky, and then you can fuck right into me because I’ll be lubed up and stretched out for your massive cock? Afterwards, if you’re good, I’ll eat you out like a girl, make you come with my tongue.”

Steve shivers under him, and arches into the hand Billy squeezes him with.

Billy feels his own cock thicken in his jeans at the feeling of it, and the look on Harrington’s pretty face. But then his nose scrunches and he’s pulling Billy back down onto the table, straddling his hips again.

“You’re _not_ going first,” he says determinedly, but Billy hardly hears the words over the blood rushing to his dick. Being pinned under Steve’s thighs, his erection obvious even in the half-light from the Beemer’s headlights.

So if he mutters a soft, “ _Fuck_ yeah,” it’s not at all related to the words that Steve’s saying.

Steve doesn’t seem to mind, if he notices.

Instead he focuses on spreading his legs wide and brushing their dicks together through thick layers of denim, even trying to arch his hips enough to brush Billy’s trapped dick over his hole a little, not that it seems to work out.

“I’m gonna take you home with me right _now_ ,” his counter-proposal comes, panted and desperate, “and you can fuck me however you want,” he breathes. “If you stay till the morning, maybe I’ll fuck you before breakfast.”

And _hell_ , Billy feels like there should be a rule in this competition about mentioning sappy shit like that. Staying the _night?_ Having _breakfast?_ Suddenly his mind is swimming with images of Steve buried deep in him in the tangled sheets where they slept, warm and smelling of cotton and sweat and distantly-brewing-coffee.

He grunts and clumsily wraps a leg around Steve’s ass, pulling them close, and claims Steve’s lips with his for another kiss. Billy feels like his skin is on fire where they touch, and both groan against each other’s mouths at the feel of each other’s dicks moving and leaking pre-come on themselves and a bit on each other. The fact that Steve has enough of the stuff to put a damp mark on his jeans doesn’t escape Billy’s notice.

He groans and thumbs over the wet patch, sucking his finger into his mouth to taste before he can think to stop himself.

And just like that they’re both coming. Twisting and rutting and groaning against each other as they let loose into their fucking pants.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Billy mutters, as he starts to come back down, and Steve rolls off him to assess the damage on them both. “I’m never gonna get the stain out of these, asshole,” he gripes, even as his skin tingles all over.

“You _could_ come over,” Steve offers again, more seriously. “Like, if you’re afraid of your dad finding…” he gestures vaguely. “Our washer’s downstairs, so nobody’ll mind if we do a load right now.”

Billy narrowly resists smirking at the word ‘load,’ and sits up.

“Thanks, but I’m fine,” he says, standing up on wobbly legs as misery starts to set in. “How would we figure out who’s the little spoon? Somebody just sleep under the bed?”

His attempt at a joke falls horribly flat, but Harrington doesn’t seem to be deterred by it.

“Look, if you think I don’t want to do this again just ‘cause we can’t agree on one thing, you’re an idiot,” he says frankly. “There are other kinds of sex, y’know. And like, dildos or whatever. I’ll buy you the nicest fucking dildo money can buy if you’ll but your dick in me, okay? Just… don’t fuckin let this be a one time thing. Please.”

Billy chews on his tongue thoughtfully for a long minute over that, not meeting Steve’s eyes or even looking at him. There are so many reasons not to do this. So many reasons to walk away. But all it takes is a brush of Steve’s soft fingertips over the back of his hand, reaching for it, to pull Billy to his side on it.

He kisses him once more, hesitant again now, and a little bit lost, and then lets their fingers entwine.

“I want eggs for breakfast,” he says with a decisive breath, turning toward the preppy Euro-trash car Harrington drives, and he feels Steve’s hand squeeze his a little.

“That can be arranged,” he promises warm against his ear, and Billy feels a flush of something like arousal rush through him again already.


End file.
